


Soup

by swanqueenfic13



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 15:08:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5132078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swanqueenfic13/pseuds/swanqueenfic13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fluff-filled story of Emma taking care of a flu-ridden Regina.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soup

“Do try not to slam the door _quite_ so loud, Miss Swan,” I groan, massaging my temples. I open one eye to see her raising her eyebrow.

“Something wrong, your majesty?” she smirks, slamming the bag from Granny’s on the desk. I wince as the sound grates against my eardrums, like nails on a chalkboard, or a fork scraping against a plate. “Whoa, really, Regina, is something wrong?” Emma asks. I take a deep breath, schooling my face into neutrality.

“I am fine, Miss Swan. Nothing more than a simple headache. What is it you needed?” I sit up straight, taking my elbows off the desk.

“I just, uh, thought I’d bring you lunch. Henry said you’ve been busy, and I know you tend to forget to eat when you get busy. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I already told you I am _fine_! Please, stop shouting.” She drops herself in the chair across from me, the chair scraping ever so slightly against the floor.

“I’m not shouting,” she says, though she lowers her voice considerably. “I just wanted to make sure you’re taking care of yourself. If your headache is that bad, maybe you should go home and get some rest.”

“I’m fine, Miss Swan. Thank you, but if you don’t mind, I have a lot of work to get done today,” I say sincerely. Taking the hint, Emma nods as she leaves, careful to pull the door shut quietly. As soon as she’s gone, I put my head in my hands again, resting my eyes, I tell myself. Yes, I have a lot of work to get done, but I can’t do it when the words are swirling, jumping off the page.

 

“Mom?” Henry shouts. I open my eyes, feeling the burn of the fluorescent lights against my retinas. “Mom, is everything alright?” I get the feeling that this is not the first time he’s called for me. I am careful to peel my face off of my desk.

“Yes, Henry, I’m fine. I just needed a few moments to, uh, to rest my eyes,” I groan, stretching my arms, rolling my neck.

“You were late for dinner, so Emma and I came to check on you,” he explains. When I see the flash of blonde hair standing just behind him, I groan. Of course, the Savior is back again. The last thing I remember is resting my eyes after Emma dropped off lunch, a lunch which still sits on the desk in front of me, untouched.

“Henry, you’re going to stay with David and Mary Margaret tonight,” she says, narrowing her eyes at me.

“Miss Swan, why, exactly, are you taking our son away from me? _Again?”_ She rolls her eyes.

“You’re sick. And you don’t want him getting sick either. Henry, go wait downstairs in the Bug. We’ll be down soon.” As he scampers out the door, she raises one eyebrow, daring me to protest, but I don’t have the energy for that. I realize this when I stand, and every muscle seems to be fighting me. All I want to do is lie down in a hot bath, relax all the aches and pains. “Come on, I’ll take you home,” she offers gently, helping Regina stand.

 

“Yeah, thanks Dad. I, uh, I know it’s last minute, but Regina’s really sick. It looks like the flu, or something,” I explain quietly, watching as Henry gets settled in my old room. I lean against the doorframe.

“Hey, I’m not one to complain, but why exactly aren’t you taking Henry to your place?” I grin, thinking of the new apartment I’d finally gotten myself just a month earlier. Not that I wasn’t grateful to my parents for letting me to stay, but no one really wants to be living with their parents at my age, even if your parents are the same age as you by some freaky feat of magic and curses and crap.

“I’m staying at the mansion. Regina won’t take care of herself, so I’m going to,” I shrug. He raises one eyebrow at me. “What? It’s true.” He raises up his hands in surrender.

“Alright, fine. We’ll keep Henry safe here with us, and you can call us when she’s better and he can go home,” he laughs.

“Where’s mom?” I ask, watching Henry bustle about the kitchen, making himself a cup of hot cocoa.

“She took Neal for a walk, and I told her we’d meet her at Granny’s for dinner.” I nod.

“Alright, well, so long as you’re all good here, I’m gonna get back to Regina, make sure she’s still, you know, conscious and all that. See you later, kid!” I call out. “Bye Dad,” I say softer, hugging him with one arm.

 

“Miss Swan, I do _not_ need you taking care of me,” Regina grumbles.

“Eat the soup, Regina,” I order, holding a spoonful out to her. She wrinkles her nose and turns away from the soup.

“I’m not hungry,” she insists.

“What is the last thing you ate?”

“This is none of your business. I’m _fine,_ ” she insisted. I resist the urge to roll my eyes; it is quite clear she is not fine. Her skin is flushed, she’s sweating bullets, but she clutches the knit gray blanket tightly around her, her eyes are unfocused, she keeps letting out these hacking coughs, and her nose is running like a fountain.

“Eat the damn soup, Regina,” I sigh.

“No offense Miss Swan, but your cooking skills are unreliable at best,” she sniffles.

“This is from Granny’s,” I point out, offering her the spoon again. I can see her starting to waver.

“What kind of soup?” she asks hesitantly. I try to hide my grin.

“Chicken noodle.”

“Give me the spoon.”

 

“Please, Miss Swan, I just want to go to bed,” I moan. She shakes her head, standing in front of me.

“Let me help you up the stairs and get you into bed, or you sleep on the couch.” I flush at the indignity. I will certainly not have the child of Snow White carry me to my bed, like an invalid, regardless of the improvement in our relationship.

“Oh, just get out of my way,” I groan, shoving my way to my feet, elbowing my way around her. I try to hold my head high as I walk around her, but I must have stood up too quickly. The room is spinning and black spots form in my vision. I shouldn’t keep walking, but they say pride goeth before a fall. I take this to heart as I keep walking, right up until everything goes dark.

 

“Damnit,” I grunt, shifting Regina under my weight. I’m standing near the foot of her bed, looking around her room, which is easily bigger than most of my apartments. I should probably just put Regina to bed, but she’s slick with sweat, and that will not be comfortable for her. And, considering the fact that she’s a neat freak, it would mean she’d have to clean her sheets tomorrow, which means _I_ would have to clean her sheets. I want to groan, knowing what I have to do.

Setting Regina down on the bathroom floor is easy. Balancing her in my lap in front of me is a piece of cake. Getting her shirt off? Wetting a washcloth? All good. What’s most difficult is knowing where the line is. I mean, I don’t want Regina to get too hot and uncomfortable in the night, and we have been getting on better terms, but is this too much? Are we close enough, emotionally, for me to be essentially sponge-bathing her while she’s topless? I wish she were conscious to answer these questions, but alas, here I am.

“Okay Regina, you’re not conscious right now, but just in case you can hear me, I’m just going to try and cool you down a bit,” I whisper as I start to run the cloth over her neck. “This is a little awkward, but I’m just trying to help you,” I continue. It feels a little less awkward as I go on, keeping up a steady one-sided conversation as I go. Finally, I feel like Regina’s skin has cooled down a little. I put one arm under her legs and the other around her still-naked torso. I lay her on the bed and work the boots off her feet. A delicate flush creeps across my skin as I get her skirt and garters off, trading them in for a pair of silk shorts and a matching silk shirt. I bite my lip as I pull the covers delicately around her.

“Should you have been unconscious for this long?” I mumble to myself. “It’s probably not so much unconscious as asleep at this point, right? Right.” But still, there’s a niggling sensation of doubt that makes me hesitant to be far from her, even just a few rooms down the hall. Instead, I borrow a set of pajamas, (silk, like everything else she owns apparently), and park myself on the handsome, plush recliner in her room. I pull an extra blanket around my legs, prepared to keep watch over Regina all night.

 

I have strange dreams in the night.

All I can retain are flashes, disturbing images. Most of them make no sense. In some, elephants are flying over Storybrooke, landing on Henry and Emma. In others, the non-existent wild zoo animals in Storybrooke are released, all hunting after me. In still others, I’m trying to get Rumplestiltskin’s spell book from my Mother, but this takes place in Storybrooke, long after she had died. The most troubling, though, was one with Emma, and I was topless. I don’t remember much else about the dreams, other than their disturbing quality and content.

“Regina?” a voice grumbles. I open my eyes slowly, seeing Emma sitting in my chair, with my favorite blue afghan curled around her legs. She’s stretching slowly, revealing a small section of pale midriff underneath her pajama top- wait, not _her_ top, _my_ blue silk pajama top.

“Are you wearing my clothes, Miss Swan?” I try and ask. Unfortunately, I’m caught in the middle of a cough, so it sounds more like “Ar- _cough_ \- wear- _cough_ \- my- _cough, cough, coug_ h- Swan?”

“Go back to bed, Regina,” she whispers soothingly, coming to kneel by the bed.

‘Water,” I croak pathetically. She nods, disappearing only to return a few moments later with a cup, and a little green bottle. I gulp the water thirstily as she squints at the bottle, opening one eye at a time as she tries to read the print on the side. Finally, she manages to read the side and begins pouring what I hope is one dose into the little plastic cup.

“Don’t want it,” I mumble, ready to go back to bed.

“It’ll help with your cough,” she persuades. I shake my head and close my eyes. “Take the medicine or I’ll- I’ll- I’ll- you know what, Regina? I’ll pour it down your throat. This is going to help you, just open your mouth.” I shake my head, clamping my mouth closed. She grabs my chin roughly, keeping me still. “Stop being such a baby.”

“I am not- gack!” Just as I start to protest, she pours the disgusting, artificial cherry-flavored medicine down my throat. She forces my jaw closed, preventing me from spitting it out, which is my instinct. “Damn you, Emma,” I pant, laying back on the bed. She grins at me as I settle back on the bed, crawling up onto the other side of me. I stiffen, until I feel her running her hands through my hair.

“Go to sleep,” she whispers. “I’ll wake you up again for some more soup and medicine in a few hours.” I want to protest, send her home, tell her I don’t need medicine, say something, but my body is too tired. I feel like I’ve been trying to run a marathon through quick sand for three days straight, and I can’t make my mouth move. The last thing I remember before I fall asleep again is how nice it feels to have Emma brushing my hair.

 

Oh damn.

 _Oh. Damn_. I am going to be in so much trouble. Oh, this is not what I was supposed to be doing. I was just supposed to be helping Regina falling asleep. I was not supposed to fall asleep in her bed. I was not supposed to wake up with her snuggled on top of me. I was not supposed to be thoroughly enjoying this. Oh _crap_ , when she wakes up, Regina is going to kill me.

I should move. I really should, but she’s so entangled in me, I don’t know if I can move without waking her up. I start by trying to unravel her legs from mine, a feat for a contortionist, apparently. Eventually, our legs are separated, and I start trying to unwrap her arms from my waist. Who would’ve guessed that badass Regina Mills, former Evil Queen, is actually just a big koala bear in bed? She starts to mumble as I unwind her arms, but she doesn’t wake. The worst part will be when I try to move her head, slide her body off of my chest. She starts to whimper, crying out for help, and I can’t ignore her. I can’t shove her away when she seems so weak.

“Em… ma,” she groans. I sit up against her headboard and lay her head across my lap, stroking her hair, trying to get her back to sleep. “Em… ma, don’t… don’t go,” she whimpers, her eyes fluttering open.

“Shhh, Regina go to sleep,” I whisper, stroking her hair gently.

“‘Mm hungry,” she mumbles. “Throat hurts.”

“Shhh, don’t speak. Just stay here while I go get the soup,” I whisper, carefully getting off the bed. She rolls over, grabbing my hand as I make to leave.

“Don’t leave me,” she whimpers. I can see in her eyes that she’s still half-asleep, delirious from fever, probably dehydrated, and saying things she would never say normally. But I also see her fear and her vulnerability, and I can’t leave her here, not like this.

“Alright, come on, we’ll move downstairs,” I say quietly, scooping her up in my arms. She leans her head against my shoulder as I walk, smiling as she closes her eyes.

“No,” she moans as I put her down on the couch, but I can’t carry her while I get her soup and pour the medicine. I wish she had the daytime version, so she wasn’t so sleepy all day, but I kinda like drugged-out Regina.

“Have some soup, Regina,” I whisper, offering her a spoonful of medicine. She opens her mouth gratefully, and I can see the betrayal in her eyes as she tastes the medicine. Before she can try and spit it out, I close her mouth, forcing her to swallow.

“That’s gross,” she mutters, and I just nod sympathetically, offering her some more ‘soup.’

 

“How’s the patient?” I roll my eyes, hearing the smirk in my mother’s voice even over the phone.

“She’s Regina. How’s Henry?”

“He’s fine. He and David and Neal are at the park right now, and then I’m getting Neal and the boys are going to the stables. Is she any better?” She drops the sarcasm, actually concerned for my son’s other mother. I take a moment to reflect on how far we’ve all come.

“She’s worse. Feverish, delirious, coughing keeps her up, she’s so tired. I’ve been giving her cough syrup, but she only has the nighttime kind, so it’s keeping her asleep, or close to asleep all day,” I sigh, peeking back into the living room. Regina is still passed out on the couch with the TV on in the background.

“See if Granny will make her her special tea. Says it’ll cure any illness,” Snow offers. I bite my lip.

“I, uh, I can try that,” I say, watching as Regina mumbles in her sleep, rolling over and kicking her feet. “Look, mom, can I let you go? Regina’s waking up.” I don’t even wait to hear her say goodbye before I hang up on her, sitting on the floor next to Regina’s head.

“Emma, where’d you go?” she mumbles sleepily, smiling over at me.

“Five minutes. I was gone five minutes, and you woke up from a dead sleep,” I chuckle.

“Not true. You could have been gone five _hours,_ ” she yawns. “Come sit with me.” She pats the space just behind her head, and I sit, turning my body to face the TV, carefully avoiding putting my feet on the couch. “No, pull your feet up, lay back,” she orders. I raise one eyebrow but don’t protest as she shifts around, making room for me to pull my feet up, my body horizontal on the couch as I lean my back against the arm of the couch. When she’s certain I’m comfortable, she leans back, pressing her back up against my chest, nestling her head into me. I don’t even think about it, I just rest my chin on top of her head and wrap my arms around her, pulling the blanket tighter.

“Regina?” I whisper after a while, checking to see if she’s asleep. When I get no response, I move for the remote, careful not to shift her.

“No, change it back,” Regina moans.

“I thought you were asleep,” I protest.

“I want to see… if they can get the tumor out,” Regina groans again. I smile, putting _Grey’s Anatomy_ back on, a new favorite show of Regina’s, and hunkers down in the couch, aware that this is one tumor Derek and Meredith can’t get rid of, but I wouldn’t dare ruin the ending for Regina.

 

I feel it when I wake up.

The pressure of another’s hands on my waist, encircling me, trapping me. I squirm, but the grip just tightens. Opening my eyes, I see I’m in my bedroom, but I’m not alone. A stray blonde curl tickles my cheek, and I stiffen. I’d spent the past three days in a sort of limbo, half waking and half sleeping. I hadn’t been sure what was a dream and what was reality, especially when it came to the Savior’s presence. Interspersed among dreams of elephants, spellbooks, tumors and soup, I have strange images of Emma. Emma, helping me in the shower. Emma, snuggling with me on the couch. Emma, brushing my hair off my face. Emma, wearing my pajamas. Emma, spoonfeeding me soup and wrestling medicine down my throat. And now, Emma, snuggling with me in my bed.

It’s when she shifts underneath me that I notice it. The pressure I’d become accustomed to blocking my nasal passage is gone, and the dry burn in my throat is gone, replaced with a soft, wet tickle. My musings on my newly improved health are shunted aside as I hear a soft groan in my ear.

“Emma?” I whisper, rolling over to look at her. She opens her eyes slowly, and I can see the exhaustion, and the pain in them.

“Please don’t shout. I’ve got a killer headache,” she moans, letting out a pitiful cough. I pull back just a tad, trying to hide my grin.

“Well dear,” I say, dropping my voice to less than a whisper, “it seems your White Knight tendencies have been your downfall. You’ve got my flu.” I can’t help but smile when I see her face fall.

“Does that mean I have to take that crappy medicine?” she groans, falling back on the pillows, extricating herself from me. I snicker, thinking back on some of the dream- memory -images from when _I_ had been sick, and heavily under the influence of the aforementioned crappy medicine.

“Of course not, dear. I’ll just get you some soup.”

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews are an author's best friend!


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